Unlearned In Evils
by Bad Dancer
Summary: "Cassie slapped herself hard across the face, bringing herself back to reality. This wasn't a puzzle, this wasn't the Playroom. Things were real now, and she couldn't hide anymore." Slowburn Bucky/OC
1. Outside

The cold wind scraped across her cheeks as Cassie Conway stared up in amazement at a street lamp.

She had always wondered what a street might look like at night. Empty and open and made up of patchworks of dark and light. Slowly, Cassie extended her hand and inched it into the circle of light the lamp provided, halfway illuminating her palm. She giggled, a strangled sound that clearly she had not made very often, before removing her hand from the light and slowly limping away.

The cold Vancouver air made her bare legs and arms sting, and it certainly didn't help the thick, clumsy slash across the inside of her forearm. It stung, but not worse than anything she'd felt before. She clutched the wound tighter against her already bloodstained hospital gown as she stumbled in only thin socks through the snow banks, leaving a trail of blood in the pure white. She could get out of the snow, but she refused to walk along the street. The snow would melt in the morning, muddling her DNA, but if she left her blood on the road, it would freeze and they would find her.

If she lost a toe or two to frostbite, so be it.

Finally, she came across the glass doors of a convenience store. Cautiously, she wiggled the handles of the door, hoping that they would easily open, but no such luck. She whimpered before quickly looking both directions. No one was around. Perfect.

She raised her eyes to the wires that clearly ran to the security cameras both inside and outside. They needed to go. Quick.

Slipping her long, pale fingers up towards the cables, she roughly tugged them out of the wall, crudely but effectively disabling them. Then she took out a long piece of wire from the disabled camera and worked clumsily at the lock before it gave way and opened the door.

The blonde teen fell through the door quickly, stumbling through the darkened halls in search of a bathroom. She spotted a sign just around the corner and stumbled over as quickly as she could.

Once she was inside she slammed the door behind her, locking it for good measure, turned on the lights and went over to the sink. She tripped over her blood soaked socks, nearly causing her chin to collide with the sink, but she caught herself just in time.

Shakily, Cassie raised her eyes up to the mirror. What looked back at her was unfamiliar, almost ghostly. She hadn't seen herself in a mirror for almost a year, and, unfortunately, things hadn't improved.

She ran her fingers over the undersides of her eyes. They were dark and deep in stark contrast to her too pale skin. Her blue eyes looked pale and scared. Her long blonde hair hung limp around her shoulders, unwashed and heavy. Even her nose looked odd, too sharp, almost like it could be used to poke someone's eye out. Every inch of her was only half real, half human.

Slowly, Cassie drew herself up and looked her reflection dead in the eyes.

"I- I am Cassie Con-Conway", she sputtered, feeling her throat scratch and protest against being used, "M-my name is Ca-Cassie Conway. I-I'm f-fifteen years old. I am n-not scared."

The name felt simultaneously foreign and familiar on her tongue. She'd never said it out loud, keeping the little piece of identity deep in her mind.

Satisfied but not entirely convinced, the teen nodded to her reflection before turning on the hot water tap in the sink. She quickly tugged her socks off and brought the foot that hurt worse up to the sink and under the stream of water. Her skin was bright red, but no toes had been lost, so that counted as a win. Her arms, however, were another story. The skin was a purple and black patchwork of shot veins. She probably shouldn't have ripped the IV's out as roughly as she did, but it was too late now.

As the water helped her blood circulate, she lifted her arm up to look over the wound. The cut was deep and clumsy. She hadn't really been paying attention to the pain as she did it, which she should be grateful for considering she had been using a pretty blunt razor. Nonetheless, it had left a thick, Y shaped wound, effectively making her tattoo useless.

She switched feet after a few minutes and then set to work washing her hair, rubbing and twisting the smell of iodine out. After all that, she turned back and made her way to the bathroom door. Carefully, she pushed the door open and checked her surroundings. She wouldn't be able to fight if anyone snuck up on her. Satisfied that the halls were empty, she tiptoed out into the halls. It hurt less to walk, so she padded barefoot across the linoleum floor.

The silence of the empty store was unfamiliar. It made her skin itch and her mind ache. Cassie had never known anything to be completely silent. There was always something. Whether it was the hum of machinery, the hammering of an MRI machine or the screams of children she never saw, there was always something.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassie noticed a burst of color. She turned her head to see a pair of thick, rainbow colored socks hanging from a display. Transfixed, she slowly made her way over to the garments and ran the tips of her fingers over the knitting. The stripes of color stood in stark contrast to her nearly paper white fingers. She'd never seen something so colorful in her entire life.

Taking the socks down from their hook, she removed the tag with shaking fingers and tugged them onto her bare feet. The sights of something so bright and beautiful adorning her skin made her smile. Sparing another glance down at her feet, she continued to walk down to the clothing aisle.

Cassie spent the next few minutes changing into thick, warm clothes, discarding her bloody hospital gown and leaving it on the ground to be recovered later. Groaning, she relished in the soft fabrics easing their way over her skin. She moaned and giggled at the cotton of a bright blue shirt rustling over the bumpy scars that littered her torso. She managed to gather three jackets, two shirts, two pairs of jeans and hiking boots. Needing a place to keep her extra garments, she snatched a backpack off the wall and stuffed them towards the bottom.

She rolled up her sleeves as she navigated the aisles around her. Next, she filled the backpack with essentials: a water bottle, gloves, protein bars, tampons, extra underwear. She needed to disappear.

"Hey!"

Cassie spun around, tripping and falling onto the ground. Her sore tailbone screamed in protest as she collided with the ground. She looked up to see a security guard shining his flashlight in her face, nearly blinding her. He was holding onto her hospital gown, the blood smearing onto his fingers.

"Kid, is this yours?", he asked nervously, holding up the blood soaked gown.

Cassie whimpered, pulling herself up off the ground. She tried to open her mouth, to say something, but the words weren't coming out.

The guard's eyes widened as he took in the girl in front of him. From her bruised face and bleeding arm to the multiple dark, botched track marks in her neck, he seemed to be putting a few pieces together.

"Are your parents…", he continued, stepping closer and indicating her wounded arm, "Did they… did somebody do something to you?"

Cassie quickly slapped her hand over the wound, ignoring the sting as she did. She choked on her words, still unable to speak. She hadn't spoken to a real person in… well, her whole life.

"Is that a tattoo?", he asked, shocked. He had clearly seen what was under her cut. Shit.

"How about I call the police", the man said gently, beginning to look far out of his depth, "And they can-"

"No."

The man blinked in surprise. Clearly he hadn't thought she could speak, and he was surprised at the way she spoke. Cassie couldn't blame him. Her voice was scratchy, high pitched, and disjointed. It might even be funny if Cassie wasn't so scared. "Kid, I don't really have a-"

"N-no", Cassie stuttered, her shaking hands wringing together and smearing the blood over her fingers, "I c-can't let them- I can't l-let them know w-where I am."

She ran through every possible scenario in her mind. A missing girl, blonde, erratic. It was so obvious that it was deadly. The second the report hit any police database she would be caught. Even if he didn't turn her in, he would tell someone what he had seen. Someone would say something to someone else and word would find its way back to…

Her head began to pound, her thoughts buzzing together and becoming blurry. Her brain was moving too fast. She pressed her hands firmly against the side of her head, fingers tangled in her hair as she tried to control her breathing like the doctors had told her too when her mind worked too quickly.

"I can help you, just-"

"Can't g-go back", she continued, the world becoming hazy around her and she began to smack herself in the head, trying to get the world to stop feeling so blurry. Why did it have to hurt this bad? "I w-won't go b-back. I won't. I c-can't. I won't."

Her heart was slamming so hard in her chest she thought it might leave a bruise and her brain felt like it was on fire. Her entire body began to violently shake. She kept muttering under her breath, little phrases that had worked when she was a child. She shook, pacing around and hitting herself in the head. Her hits became more violent in an attempt to quell the burning feeling and she felt like her breath was being blocked, chest imploding.

"Hey, kid! Calm down, just-"

Cassie felt his hand snake around her arm and she let out a loud, piercing scream.

 _SMACK!_

Cassie froze when she saw the security guard tumble to the ground, a bright red handprint on his cheek, matched with four scratch marks. Before he reached the ground, his head hit the edge of a shelf holding packages of gauze, followed by a sickening crunch. She screamed into her hands, trying to muffle the sound.

Horrified, Cassie backed away as she saw blood beginning to spill from his wound.

"I didn't…", she sputtered, tears streaming down her face in horror, "I didn't m-mean to…"

She kept her eyes on the guard, hoping that he might twitch, move a little. But no. His cranium had been cracked open, frontal lobe visible even through the thick blood clotting in his hair. She wanted to touch it, see if she could unspool such an intricate puzzle. She used to love puzzles...

Cassie slapped herself hard across the face, bringing herself back to reality. This wasn't a puzzle, this wasn't the Playroom. Things were real now, and she couldn't hide anymore.

Wasn't that what she wanted?

Now completely sobbing, Cassie shakily ripped the gown from the man's limp grasp and whipped her head around, looking for anything to cover the man's body. It's what people did when someone died, right? She had no clue, just a few stolen ideas from far away conversations, but it was the right thing to do. Noticing a roll of tin foil to her right, she grabbed it and desperately rolled half the roll out. The material crackled as she lay it over the old man's body.

Still sobbing and now bruised from her self inflicted punishment, Cassie snatched her backpack off the ground before running out of the store. She slammed her body into the door, ripping it open as fast as possible. The cold hit her again, but this time she was protected. But how long could that really last?

The world was cold and dark. The air hurt and the silence made her head throb. There was nowhere for her to go, so Cassie Conway did what she did best: she disappeared.


	2. Chicago

"What do you think Fury's bringing us in for?", Clint asked, twirling a drumstick between his fingers as he and Natasha walked through the halls towards Fury's office.

"No clue", Natasha responded simply, her face passive as they made their way down, "Maybe an extraction."

"Hope it's something cool", Clint continued jovially, "Bomb threat on the president or something."

"You hope there's a bomb threat against the president?", the redhead teased, smirking over at her partner.

"I mean, it might be cool", jabbed Clint as the reached Director Fury's office doors. The archer smirked over at the redhead as she strode confidently into the office.

As they made their way over, Nick Fury turned towards the two agents from behind his desk in his usual dramatic fashion. Clint held back a scoff at the man's usual Matrix-esque attire, knowing the comparison tended to earn him a glare. And Nick Fury's one-eyed glare could make a marine cry.

"Good to see you two could make it", Fury greeted plainly.

"What can I say", Clint lilted, smirk gracing his face as he dropped down in a seat in front of the director's desk, "I simply couldn't deprive you of my amazing company for long."

The director looked like he was barely containing an eye roll. He picked up a file from off of his desk.

"I'm giving you a new assignment", Fury declared, dropping the file in front of the two agents.

"No shit", Clint replied, grabbing hold of the file and flipping the pages open lazily. He didn't have to look up to feel the passive eye roll from his boss.

"There's some hacker out there stealing from a pharmaceutical comapny and redistributing the money", Fury continued, undeterred by the archer's obstinance, "I need you two to find out who it is and bring them in."

"So it's some Robin Hood wannabe", Clint shrugged, flipping through the pages half-heartedly, "What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that this hacker left nearly no trail whatsoever", the director responded, his eyes hardening, "No one SHIELD has brought in has ever managed to do that. The only reason we caught this one is because it only lasted forty seconds and our scanners managed to latch on."

Natasha lifted her brows, looking intrigued. "Impressive."

Fury nodded before continuing. "The trail was just a blip on our radar, but we managed to put its origin in the general Chicago area. Maybe a little outside the city. It disappeared so quick we couldn't deduce where the money was wired to."

"Any major mobsters?", Clint inquired, leaning back, "Maybe it was payment for a hit?"

"Maybe", Fury responded, his eyebrows furrowing in thought, "But I've got a feeling it's something else."

"You're right", Natasha agreed, keeping her arms folded behind her back, "It's too clean. No mob boss would give a crap who saw what was wired."

Clint rolled his head back with a lazy smile, giving his partner an exaggerated thumbs up. "Nice catch, Nat."

"So you want us to stake it out, gather info", Natasha stated simply, not bothering to question what she viewed as obvious as she held back an eye roll at her friends antics. Clint took it as a win and turned his head back to Fury, a satisfied grin gracing his features before turning his gaze back down to the file in his lap.

The director nodded firmly, straightening his already pretty impressive posture. "We have a few leads on some hacker units. They've made some threats to the company before."

The agent looked over the papers in the file. What caught his eye, however, was the location estimation. The map provided showed a general range in the suburbs outside Chicago, marking a few possible sights. But what was interesting was that it was all outside any known gang turfs in the city.

"What if it's not a hacker unit?" piped Clint, his brows pulling together in curiosity.

Fury cocked an eyebrow. "You got any other ideas?"

"Well", the archer drawled, looking more critically at the information in his hands, "It says it was outside of Chicago. There's a pretty big homeless population around there. Desperate people. Maybe desperate enough to rob one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the US."

"You think a homeless person did this?" Fury inquired. Natasha kept her face passive, but she was listening intently.

"Why not?", Clint shrugged, snapping the file shut, "Who's to say that we don't have some computer genius down on their luck. More likely than a mob hit in my opinion."

Fury nodded, his passive face becoming more interested. "Not a bad theory. Romanoff, you stake out the hacker units. Barton, you check the shelters. Report back by the end of the week."

* * *

Clint decided that he had picked the most depressing homeless shelter in America to stake out.

He'd done some recon in shelters before, but none were as bad as this. Most of the time the people were still shabby and definitely deserved better, but this one took the cake. Everyone there had track marks, ripped up clothes and thrown out food stuck in what was left of their teeth. A small fight was breaking out in the corner over a line of what must have been very cheap cocaine. The most desperate people made camp here.

Dressed in shabby clothes that Nat had insisted must smell like cigarettes for authenticity, the agent trudged through the pockets of people milling around, exchanging cigarettes and baby wipes for bags of chips and clean needles. It truly was a depressing sight.

"Boy", someone rasped beside him, "You're new here."

Clint looked down to see an old man squinting up at him grumpily. His mouth hung open to reveal a mouth half full of rotten teeth.

"Yeah", Clint grumbled back, leaning back on his heels to look casual, "Just came in from Chicago. Shelter there was shit."

The old man huffed, sending a waft of rotten smelling air towards Clint. "More shit than this one?"

The agent shrugged. "You'd be surprised."

The man observed him, squinting at Clint skeptically before sighing and extending his wrinkled hand.

"Name's Jerome", he grunted, shaking Clint's hand limply, "Welcome to the compound."

"Jimmy", Clint responded casually, "Anything I should know? Ya know, survival skills around here?"

Jerome chuckled, rubbing at his nose and smearing the last remnants of coke down his nostrils.

"Couple 'a things", he drawled, "Cigarettes are basically money 'round here, same as anywhere else. Keep your toilet paper hidden, people tend to steal it. A clean needle will get you whatever the fuck you want. Make sure not to get on Sandy's bad side, he's one 'a those kids that makes shivs in his spare time and likes any excuse ta use 'em."

"Shit", the agent responded, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Place really is a compound. What about-"

Clint was cut off by a small body slamming into him. He only stumbled a little to the side, but the other person tumbled to the ground with a squeak. Looking down, the archer saw that a young woman with ratty blonde hair tucked into a purple cap had been the one to ram into him. She looked slight, like a medium sized breeze would knock her on her ass. Clint was surprised he hadn't seen her coming with the electric yellow sweater peeking out from under her too large jean jacket and red, threadbare jeans. The kid looked like a rainbow threw up on her.

Reacting quickly, Clint extended his hand to help her up.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry-"

"Cassie, what the fuck?", Jerome slurred through his rotten teeth, rolling his eyes at the girl on the ground.

"S-sorry, Jerry", she muttered with a clear stutter, scrambling up without grabbing onto Clint's extended hand, "Just gotta g-get to the cot quick."

Clint quickly and quietly observed the girl out of the corner of his eye. She couldn't be more than nineteen. Her sharp features and wide eyes made her fairly easy to recognize. But it was the deep frown set firmly on her face that stood out to him.

"You're gonna break somethin' a yours soon enough tumblin' to the ground like that all the damn time", the old man slurred, "Slow the fuck down."

"I know", she squeaked, curling in on herself, "I w-will."

Without so much as looking at Clint, she half ran, half tripped passed them towards what must have been her cot.

"Fuckin' kid", the older man muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

"Who was that?", Clint asked, intrigued.

"That there's Cassie", he explained, sounding exasperated, "Weird kid. Been here about a month or two."

Clint's eyes followed the girl, who was shakily stuffing things into a large backpack and whipping her head back and forth like a paranoid schizophrenic. "Seemed twitchy."

"Always is", he provided, adjusting his position on his cot, "Can't get a damn word outta her mouth without stumblin'. Smart as a whip though."

"Really?" Clint inquired, raising his eyebrows, "What kinda smart?"

"Books, tech, that sorta junk", grumbled Jerome, glancing over at the girl who was now whipping her head around like a paranoid schizophrenic, "Never understood why she ain't got a job. Smart, young, sweet as anything. Figured it was some brain problem. Mental illness or whatnot."

Clint narrowed his eyes on the blonde. She was just a kid, but something was definitely off about her.

* * *

Cassie screwed up. She screwed up bad.

She knew that she shouldn't have hacked that firewall. She shouldn't have wired all that pharmaceutical company's money to the local emergency rooms. And she _definitely_ shouldn't have done the same thing to two other companies.

She'd left a trail, and someone had picked up on it.

Panicking, she busied herself by stuffing all her possessions into her backpack, listing everything in her head to keep herself from having a breakdown.

 _Clothes on the bottom._

 _Books on top of the clothes_

Notebooks on top of books.

 _Water bottle in the side pocket._

 _IPod and headphones in the front pocket._

In. Out. In. Out. She kept trying to level her breathing as she continued stuffing her backpack to the brim. She knew she couldn't leave tonight, it'd look too suspicious. If anyone came asking, they would be able to pinpoint her as the girl who ran the night the code was caught. No, she had to wait at least a few days. Make it look more like a coincidence.

Looking over her shoulder, Cassie made sure no one was watching her. Not like anyone would. Most people around here kept to themselves, but a few spared her some glances. Maybe they were agents, people sent to find her. Cassie whimpered at the thought of them finding her, but she knew they wouldn't recognize her, at least not right away. It had been years since they had seen her. That had to help in some way, didn't it?

As she started shakily stuffing her books in, Cassie felt a tap on her shoulder than made her jump off of her knees and tumble to the ground, sending her books flying around her. She whipped around and looked up to see the man she had slammed into only a minute before standing above her. He was leaned over, his hands up in a placating gesture.

"Woah, there", he chuckled, keeping his hands up, leaving her frozen on the ground like a scared rabbit, "No need to be so jumpy. I come in peace."

The tall man chuckled, clearly expecting her to do the same. Instead, Cassie kept her jaw clamped shut as she tried to slow her heart rate.

The chuckle died a little in the man's throat as he observed her. His hair poked out of his cap as he looked at the mess all around the girl he had just startled. "I'm Jimmy. You're Cassie."

Cassie tried to open her mouth to reply, but all that escaped was a little whimper. How did he know her name? She reasoned with herself that Jerome must have told him, trying to keep the paranoia at bay. Trying to get him to go away, Cassie nodded awkwardly and began to grab the books she had dropped.

The man, Jimmy, kneeled down to help, sending a nervous jolt through Cassie. Why was he helping? He could be someone sent after her.

Cassie was clumsily stuffing her books when she noticed out of the corner of her eye Jimmy holding something up to his face. Shakily, Cassie looked over to see he had grabbed one of her comics and was smirking down at it.

"Captain America fan, I see", he jibed, turning the cover over to face Cassie.

The blonde snatched the comic out from Jimmy's hand, quickly and carefully placing it between two books in her backpack. Jimmy looked down at her arm, eyebrows quirking at the old purple track marks.

"Hey", Jimmy chuckled, trying to catch Cassie's eyes, "No shame in it. I used to love those shitty comics."

"Th-they're not shitty", Cassie mumbed under her breath, nose scrunching in frustration.

"Woah, I got a word!", the man laughed, leaning back on his heels, "Yeah, they're fine, I guess. Looks like you scored an original."

"It w-was printed in 1943", Cassie defended, zipping her backpack up, "After th-the captain's fi-first national tour. The USO printed it as prop-propaganda."

"Well, you know your shit", he hummed, jovial grin still stuck on his face, "Say, how old are ya, kid?"

The blonde's eyes narrowed, alarm bells sounding in her head.

"Wh-why do you give a fuck?", she demanded, trying to look as intimidating as possible, which wasn't saying much. Giant baby eyes and no upper body strength didn't scream threatening.

Jimmy huffed out a surprised laugh, his eyes narrowing back. "Didn't expect the language there, kid."

He looked like he was waiting for her to fold, to apologize or something. Instead, she fixed him with the steadiest glare she cold muster. To try and keep her gaze steady, she fixed her point of sight on the edge of his left eye to try and make sure she didn't avert her gaze.

Seeing she wasn't folding, Jimmy nodded with a little annoyed grimace. "I ain't looking for anything creepy, kid. I'm just curious, is all."

Cassie ran through the options in her head. Every possible situation that could arise from telling him her name. The one that stood out was the fact that this man didn't seem like he would leave her alone until he got what he wanted.

"N-nineteen", she muttered, moving her gaze to the wall behind him.

Jimmy nodded in appreciation, his face still calculating. "Not a bad age. Pretty young to be in here. What, parents like to slap you around or somethin'?"

Cassie absentmindedly ran her fingers over her forearm, feeling the bump of her old scar through her jacket. "Something l-like that."

Realizing that this had gone on too long, the blonde returned her gaze to her backpack and began stuffing the last of her fallen books inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jimmy nod, clearly understanding that the conversation was over.

Cassie let out a small sigh of relief, feeling the anxious twist in her chest begin to loosen slightly. Before she could completely shift her focus back to packing, though, she saw the man turn back around.

"Hey, kid", he drawled, his face still stuck in that annoying little smirk, "I just got one more question. Scouts honour."

Knowing he wouldn't go away until he was satisfied, Cassie waved at him to continue, keeping her eyes locked on her backpack.

"Why Captain America?", Jimmy asked, hands stuffed in his pockets

The blonde felt her brows scrunch together in confusion. What kind of question was that?

"H-he helped people", she whispered, embarrassed and still confused by her own admission, "He made a choice, and- and chose to h-help people."

"So you're a save the world type", the man jested, but Cassie could see something being calculated behind his eyes.

"We should all be trying to save the wo-world", she said seriously, "Even if it's just a little part of it."

Jimmy hummed in appreciation, eyes narrowing down at her. With a slight wave and one last look, he finally turned around and sauntered off, most likely in search of his own cot, leaving Cassie on the ground, confused as to what the hell just happened.


	3. Potato Chips

Clint spent the next two days observing Cassie, only interacting in small doses. Small, stuttering doses. He checked up on some other leads, but his gut told him this all lead to the blonde.

He'd gathered as much intel as he could from the other residents, and what he found only made his hunch that much… hunchier. She disappeared each night, helped people fix their phones and computers in record time and had managed to rewire and fix the heating a few months back.

He couldn't make sense of the track marks, though. She didn't look much like a druggie, save for the deep circles under her eyes.

What had really thrown him for a loop was how sweet the girl was.

Clint had watched her hand out bags of chips, baby formula, protein bars, tampons. Anything she seemed to find, she shared. He'd even seen her going around, giving out clean needles to people. How she got them was guesswork, but who cared? All that mattered to the residents was that she was doing it for them.

Now that he had a closer look, Clint knew two things for sure: she was definitely the hacker, and she was definitely fucked up. Twitchy, paranoid, tech genius all added up to a pretty damning case against her. A love of Captain America, a pathological need to save the world and some sort of guilt complex didn't help her case either.

Who the fuck was this kid?

Clint managed to find a back corner of the storage area that was currently empty. He snuck his phone out of his pocket, quickly tapping on Nat's number. He pressed it to his ear and heard it ring twice before his partner picked up.

"What do you have?", Nat said, straight to the point.

"Wow, you just jump right in", Clint drawled, "No 'hello' or 'how are you'. Gotta say I'm hurt, Nat."

"Hello, how are you?", Nat deadpanned, her voice unimpressed.

"Now that's much better", the archer chided, keeping his eyes on everyone around him just in case they might pick up on what he was saying.

"Do you have anything?", Nat asked again patiently.

Clint glanced over his shoulder, double checking that no one was around.

"I may have something", he conceded, lowering his voice, "But it's tentative."

He could hear Nat humming across the line. Hell, he could practically see that little twitch her eyebrows did when she was thinking really hard. "What kind of something do you have? Any kind of proof?"

"Not exactly", he responded cautiously, "It's some kid. Goes by Cassie Conway. Nineteen, paranoid, supposed tech genius, and about to make a run for it."

"Could be a drug problem", Nat provided skeptically, "Maybe she got in too deep with a dealer and needs to disappear."

Clint's eyes fell on the blonde in question. She was knelt down beside Jerome, spoon feeding him what looked like tomato soup. Her fingers shook so bad that he could see some of the soup spill, but she continuously tried to make sure the old man was getting his food.

"No, I don't think so", he responded, keeping his eyes on the kid, "Something sketchy is going on with the kid, but it's not drugs. I don't know, Nat, something about it just adds up."

"Well, get something more concrete and we'll send in a team." Nat said, her voice solid.

Clint's gaze turned guilty, seeing Cassie smiling up at Jerome while gently wiping some spilled soup from his chin. What was he doing trailing this kid?

"Copy that", he finally responded before shutting off his phone and swaggering towards the girl who was currently wiping drops of soup off of the old man's bearded chin.

"Hey, Blondie", Clint lilted, keeping his face carefully jovial, "How's life?"

Cassie glanced up at him, still unable to look him in the eyes. "It- it's going, I guess."

"Just goin'?", the agent questioned, "Come on, kiddo, you've gotta give a man more than that."

"N-nothin' to give", the girl responded, her face set in a hard line as her greasy hair fell over her eyes, "No ex-excitement in a- a teen r-runaway's life."

"Well, I beg to differ", Clint chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly, "That's the kinda shit people make award winning movies about."

"Or- or Lifetime movies", Cassie jabbed, her lips twitching slightly at her little joke as she swiped the stray strands from her forehead.

"Fuckin' Jay Leno, over here", Jerome grumbled to himself, giving the girl beside him a grumpy but good natured glare.

The agent chuckled to himself, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the teen in front of him. He could tell what she was doing, avoiding every question. Keeping herself at a distance. It was all pretty impressive when he thought about it. Most guilty people were pretty hopeless at making themselves look innocent, but this girl had practice. Or maybe she was just distant by nature.

"Oh", the girl piped, her brows pulling together as she leaned back and pulled something out from under the cot she was kneeling beside, "I- I wasn't sure if y-you'd eaten today, s-so…"

Cassie pressed her lips tightly together as she held out a bag of potato chips towards Clint. The agent looked down at the offering in mild surprise. The blonde still seemed unable to meet his gaze, and she kept her arm stretched out to keep him as far away as possible, but she still offered him the food. Her face, however, was carefully absent of any expression.

Carefully, feeling like if he moved too fast she might get spooked and run away, Clint accepted the snack from Cassie, putting it in his pocket.

"Thanks, kiddo", he offered, keeping his voice even as he made to turn around, "Why- uh, what's the occasion?"

The young woman shrugged, scratching nervously at her wrist. "Just- j-just that you hadn't eaten in-in a while. At l-least I didn't see you- uh, so I- I though you might n-need something."

Clint's eyebrows rose. "You been watchin' me, Blondie?"

"N-no", Cassie spat back, continuing to scratch at her wrist, "I just- I just pay attention, is all. D-didn't want anyone to starve, or- or whatever."

Still surprised by the offering, the agent pointed back towards his little corner. "I'd better get back to my cot. Ya know, gotta keep my shit safe from shifty hands. Thanks for- uh, for the food. Nice of ya."

Cassie nodded her head jerkily, her hair falling back into her face as she turned back to Jerome and started nervously tugging blankets over his legs.

True to his word, Clint returned to his cot with one last glance over at Cassie, even more confused about the strange girl who offered him food and probably committed the largest act of wire fraud he'd ever seen.

Hours passed and finally most of the shelter was asleep or out doing whatever the hell they wanted. Cassie had slipped out again, but he wasn't planning on following her just yet. First, he had to gather the last bit of evidence he needed.

Quietly, Clint made his way over to Jerome and took a seat next to him. The old man was lazily puffing a cigarette, the embers faintly lighting his face. The smell made Clint want to gag, but he held back and casually leaned back onto his elbows.

"How's life, old man?", he inquired lazily.

"Same shit as always", the man responded with the cigarette still stuck between his lips, ash falling as it bobbed up and down, "You?"

"Can't complain", Clint responded, feeling a smirk tug strategically at his lips, "Bored out of my fuckin' mind, though."

The old man chuckled, a wheezy sound that was definitely a precursor to lung cancer. "What the fuck am I supposed to do 'bout it?"

Clint shrugged. "You could tell me a good spot to hang out."

"Only places our bums go are the park and back alleys", he responded, removing the cigarette from his lips, "And something tells me you ain't into that kinda shit."

The agent raised his hands in a sort of surrender gesture. "You caught me. But there's gotta be someone who goes out without a needle."

Jerome stuck the smoke back between his teeth, thinking. He nodded slightly before blowing out a huge cloud of smoke. "There's Mimi, she's clean. Likes going to the docks. Hassan likes it in the park, but he don't do none a that substance shit. Cassie goes to the library, and Prissy works at the diner. She'll slip you some free chicken if you're nice. They're your best bet."

Clint nodded, keeping his composure as he gathered evidence. "You said Cassie goes to the library? The twitchy kid?"

"Yeah", the older man drawled, "She's real touchy 'bout it too. No idea how she gets in, since those schizo rich people keep it locked up all the damn time, but that's where she said she goes. Said she likes the books, using the computers. Said it keeps her brain quiet or somethin' like that."

The agent took in all of the information and stood back up, giving Jerome a pat on the back. "Thanks man. Think I might check out the docks."

"Do what ya want", the man grumbled, laying back onto his cot with a groan, "You assholes never let me sleep, anyway."

As Clint made his way out, he put the final pieces together. The only library in the area was just inside the suburbs. In the exact area where the code had been traced to. There was no doubt left in his mind that Cassie was the hacker. Why she did it was a question for another time.

Quickly, Clint reached to pull out his phone. As he did, his fingers brushed against the still unopened bag of chips in his pocket. The feeling made his pause. With still fingers, the agent slowly pulled out the bag. The wrapping crinkled as he held it against his knee, staring down at it.

With his gut twisting with guilt, Clint carefully reached back into his pocket and pulled out his phone before typing a message to Natasha.

 _We've got her._

* * *

Cassie strode slowly down the street, pressing her headphones closer to her ears. The beat ripped through her eardrums, the clashing noises calming the ache in her brain. Even all these years later, the constant rush and pull of her mind made her dizzy without stimulation to combat it.

The cold air bit into her cheeks like it had years before, though it had lost its appeal. Now it just made her fingers sting and her ears go numb. Many things had lost their initial appeal. But the feeling of being able to walk on her own at night was still the most incredible thing in the world.

She broke back into the library that night. It wasn't difficult. In fact, the security in that place was laughable. Just a few taps of a screen and she could open up the automated lock. She'd assumed that the affluent area would have sprung for a tighter security code, but no. Just a simple line of code that even a basic hacker could break.

After covering all of her tracks and clearing every bit of her internet history and code, she spent the next hour wandering through the halls, grazing the tips of her fingers against the bookshelves. She wanted to memorize the place, sear it deep in her memory to be tucked away and stored for later. It was truly pathetic, but she didn't want to let go of it all. It had been nice. Safe. Calm. But she fucked up, and now she had to find somewhere new again.

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, Cassie ducked her head against the wind as she made her way along the sidewalk. She shifted her backpack on her shoulder, the weight of it making her back ache. Even with so few possessions, she felt like her shoulder might splinter underneath the bags weight.

 _Only two more miles to the train,_ she thought to herself reassuringly, sucking in a deep breath as she tried to warm her fingers inside her pockets.

She'd finally determined that now was an appropriate time to split. Just enough days had passed to let the whole thing pass as coincidence. All she needed to do was get to the train and get somewhere else. Anywhere else. Indiana seemed nice enough.

Just as she turned her head to make sure no one was following her, Cassie accidentally collided with another person, sending her stumbling backwards and her headphones tumbling of her ears onto her shoulders. In a panic, she whipped her head up to see that the person she had smacked into was a tall, red headed woman.

"I- uh, I'm r-really sorry", Cassie muttered, trying to get around the woman. However, it seemed that wasn't going to be as easy as she'd hoped.

"Shit, sorry", the woman responded, her voice deep and confident, "Didn't mean to shoulder check you."

"N-no problem", the blonde responded quietly, ducking her head to avoid eye contact as she tried to sidestep the red head.

The woman, however, refused to get out of her way, making Cassie feel caged in. Her paranoia was working full time now. She could be someone looking for her. Without her music, the world was too quiet and her head began to hurt, which only made her fear worsen and her vision start to get blurry.

"Hey, I'm actually pretty lost", the woman lilted, stooping her head to try and look Cassie in the eyes, "If you could point me in the direction of the metro, that would really help me out."

Cassie glanced up and noticed that there was something demanding in the woman's eyes. Something that meant she wasn't really looking for the metro.

 _Oh, shit._

"Um, I- I don't know", Cassie muttered back, her shoulders curling in as the noise in her head started to become louder and her breathing more shallow, "I d-don't know the area well. I should prop-probably-"

Just as she started to step backwards and away from the intimidating woman, Cassie felt her heel step over someone else's foot. Feeling her heart immediately slam through her chest, she spun around only to see a shadowy figure grab her by the neck, angrily pull her back against his chest and shove a cloth over her mouth.

Her eyes practically flew out of her head as Cassie immediately began to kick and scratch at the man holding her captive. She began to scream through the rag, rendering the sound muffled and pathetic. She could taste the chemicals sinking into her throat, searing their way into her lungs. In sheer panic, reached back and began to claw at the man's face. She felt her nails embed themselves in his cheeks, but he didn't loosen his grip.

Her screams became harsher as she wildly kicked and clawed at the man behind her, but to no avail. He was practically made of stone. There was no way in hell she was getting out of this one..

As the edges of her sight turned black, Cassie dragged her eyes up to the sky, taking in the stars for what might be the last time.


	4. Different Bleached Sheets

_The room was white. Harsh white, like it could burn your eyes if you looked at it too long. The only things that occupied the room were a bed, a desk, a toilet and a sink. No windows, one door. Just the harsh fluorescents and the smell of iodine._

 _Sitting atop the stiff, bleached sheets was a young girl dressed in dull grey sweats, tapping her fingers against her skinny ankles to the tune of Fur Elise. Her wispy blonde hair was tucked behind her ears as she rocked back and forth, tapping away at the tune, a large book abandoned at her side._

 _The child's wide blue eyes were squeezed shut as she hummed along, keeping time with the pitter patter of her fingers tapping away at the music. The noise calmed the dull ache at the base of her skull. Just as she was getting to her favorite part, she heard the door unlock. As it squeaked open, the child froze in place, her eyes snapping open._

 _She listened to the sounds of footsteps coming towards her and felt the shadow of Doctor Hayward fall over her small frame. The thump of the familiar rod against the doctor's hip sent chills up the girls spine. Slowly, she raised her eyes to see the cold glare the doctor was sending her._

" _I was told you were supposed to be studying", the woman stated, her icy glare causing the child to curl in on herself, "I was rather interested to find out what you decided to read this week."_

" _I…", the child mumbled, nervously tightening her grip on her ankles, "I needed to stop."_

 _The doctor raised her thin brow, clipboard held stiffly in her hands. "Would you care to explain why?"_

 _The child nervously tucked and untucked her hair behind her ears, spilling blonde tendrils down her face. "I- um, I was reading about the, uh, the… and my head started to hurt again. The noises were too loud."_

" _The noises?" Hayward inquired, raising her pencil to the charts pinched in her grip, "You mean the overstimulation. The last operation didn't lessen it at all?"_

 _The blue eyed child shook her head, causing her to wince as the movement irritated the ache in her skull. Hayward, however, only jotted down more notes on her charts with mild interest._

" _Well", she sighed, slipping her pencil back into it's little slot on the clipboard, "We have a new dose that may be able to counteract this… noise, as you insist on calling it. I'll retrieve you tomorrow for more testing-"_

" _Please don't", the child choked out, her eyes widening in fear, "I just did a dose last week, and my insides still feel-"_

 _Without having time to scramble backwards, Hayward removed the metal rod from her side and jammed it into the child's side, sending electric currents burning through her skin. The child cried out, a sharp and pathetic little scream that sent her tumbling to her side in pain. She curled in on herself and ghosted her hand over the burning area, unable to fully place her fingers on her skin for fear that the pain would worsen._

" _What did we say last time about complaints?" the doctor sniped, her pinched face pulling together even tighter._

 _The girl lay on her side, whimpering and holding back tears from the pain. She felt the searing burn of the rod, but was dully thankful to find it hadn't touched her skin, just sent the currents through her shirt. No new scars._

 _As the blonde tried her hardest to keep the tears from spilling, she felt the doctor reach her bony hand down towards her face. The child curled in on herself to keep the woman from touching her, but only saw that the doctor had grabbed the book from the bed. She raised the book up to her pointed nose, reading over the page Cassie had left the book open on._

" _At Cassandra's shout, no man or woman was left unaffected" she read with mild interest, her thin brows rising, "The Iliad. Many codes are based on the Greek myths. A wise choice for you."_

 _Dropping the book back down beside the child, the doctor turned and made her way towards the door. With a final surge of stupid bravery, the child cried out, "Why do they have names and I don't?"_

 _The doctor stopped in her tracks and turned back to the child, who was now weakly pushing herself back up onto her knees. "Pardon me?"_

 _The child set her face in the bravest mask she could muster, though her entire body still shook with fear. "Them. In the books. They all have names. Achilles, Paris, Cassandra. They all have names. So why don't I have one?"_

 _For a second, the doctors hand twitched towards the rod strapped to her hip, causing the child to curl backwards in fear. But, instead of grabbing for the weapon, the doctor sent the girl a simpering smile, her eyes laced with contempt._

" _Child", she cooed, her voice as sharp as her features, "Only people have names. And you're not a person."_

 _Without so much as another glance at the child, Doctor Hayward stepped through the door and shut it behind her with a deafening slam. The sound of the lock cut it's way through the room like a knife._

 _With tears in her eyes and the pain still searing its way through her side, the child slumped over and let herself cry._

 _She remained like that for several minutes, heaving with sobs that left her throat sore. As she opened her eyes to wipe away the offending tears that still spilled out, the blonde child caught sight of the book the doctor had lazily thrown back onto the bed. With shaking fingers, the child ran her fingertips across the open page. She hiccuped, fresh tears falling down onto her sheets as she stared at the book, yearning for a name like the people she could never be._

* * *

The first thing Cassie noticed was the taste in her mouth. The sting of isoflurane burned her throat and left it raw. With heavy lids, she pried her eyes open only to feel like they were burning against the fluorescent light above her.

The blonde groggily lifted her hand up to shield her eyes as she pulled herself up off of the stiff bed beneath her, not sure what was going on. Feeling an unfamiliar pounding in her head mixing with the usual clashing of noises and aches caused Cassie to groan in pain. With her eyes still closed, she reached over to snatch her old battered iPod out of her backpack only to touch empty air.

Freezing, Cassie snapped her eyes open and looked down to see that she was not in the shelter. Her pale arm was covered in a pale grey sweatshirt instead of her soft blue jacket and the lights were brighter and harsher than they ever would be at her shelter.

Her heart began to pound in her chest. Where the hell was she?

"H-hello?", she croaked, her voice scratchy and her throat burning.

Clumsily, Cassie stumbled off of the bed and looked around the room. The only things that broke the harsh whiteness of the area were the thin bed she had been on moments before, a toilet in the corner, a table with two chairs attached to the ground and a long mirror stretching across the far wall.

Had they… had they found her?

The events of the night before started to come back to her. The red headed woman, the chemicals, being dragged away down a dark alley.

Her breath became ragged as Cassie felt herself panic. She felt her fingers twitching as she whipped her head around the room, trying to find an exit.

Then, out of the silence, the click of a lock broke through the room. The blonde spun around towards the sound to see a woman a few years older than her stepping through the door. She was dressed in all black with her dark hair tied back off of her face and neck. Her blue eyes were calculating and made Cassie nervous.

The woman looked Cassie in the eye and gave her a small smile.

"Hello, Cassie", the woman said calmly, keeping her hands folded in front of her, "My name is Maria Hill, and-"

"W-where am I?" Cassie spat out, not wanting to sit through some bullshit stockholm process.

The woman- Maria- kept her composure and sent the twitchy blonde another infuriating smile. "I'm afraid I can't give you any details yet. Protocol. But we do have a few questions for you, if you don't mind."

"I do mind", Cassie sneered, trying to make herself look more angry than scared, "I don't- don't want to t-talk to you. Ju- just let me out."

"I don't have the authority to do that", Maria insisted, her face so calm that Cassie wanted to slap that expression off of her, "But if you answer my questions, we can work on getting you out of here."

"I don't- don't believe you", the blonde pleaded, the ache in her head increasing with each passing second, "I want to- to l-leave. Let me out."

Maria raised her hands in a placating gesture, her demeanor still intact. "Just sit down and-"

Cassie continued to plead, becoming desperate as she felt like her head might explode. "L-let me out-"

"-we can finish up with a few questions-"

"I want to g-go-"

"-and then we can talk about-"

"LET ME THE F-FUCK OUT!"

The blonde's screech had put the brunette on edge. Desperate, Cassie made a run towards the door, hoping beyond hope that it had been left open. As she stumbled her way over, the woman quickly grabbed hold of her and threw her down on the floor, holding her there.

Cassie continued to scream and beg, kicking and scratching wherever she could, but nothing was working. The woman lifted her wrist to her lips, clearly having a communication device in the watch, and began to speak calmly into the receiver.

"This is Hill. Suspect is violent, may need mild sedative-"

Seeing her opportunity, Cassie quickly reached up and yanked the woman's arm down and bit into her wrist. Hill let out a loud cry, mostly out of surprise, as the blonde's teeth sunk into her skin. Cassie could taste blood and thought that if she held on long enough, it would throw the woman off and she could kick her back and make a run for it.

As the blood started seeping through her teeth, Cassie felt a swift kick to her ribs. Pain radiated through her abdomen. She instinctually curled in on herself in pain. She groaned as Hill got up off of her and quickly made her way to the door.

Fearing being locked in again, Cassie dragged herself up off of the floor with a groan before stumbling as quickly as she could towards the door.

"N-no wait!" she cried as the brunette slammed the door behind her, the sound of the lock ripping through Cassie's ears.

The young woman threw herself against the door, slamming her fists into the metal.

"Please!", she cried out, her voice hysterical and desperate as sobs began to wrack her body, "P-please don't- don't leave me in- in here! Don't l-leave me- Let me out! L-let me out!"

* * *

Clint looked guiltily through the two way glass as the young blonde curled up on the ground, face red with tears and what appeared to be a barely contained panic attack. Natasha, on the other hand, was better at containing the guilt Clint knew she was feeling at the moment.

Maria made her way through the hallway, grasping her wrist gingerly as blood dripped off of her skin.

"You okay?", Nat asked, turning towards the injured agent.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine" the woman replied, waving the red headed agent away, "This one's feral. Where the hell did you find her?"

"Chicago", Clint replied.

Maria huffed, a sort of laugh. "Yeah, that explains it."

Nat smirked slightly, though she still stood stiff as she heard the girl locked up in the other room heave breaths in and out. Clint sighed, crossing his arms and looking back towards Cassie.

"She always stutter like that?" Maria inquired curiously as she stepped closer to the mirror. Clint nodded, keeping his eyes on the girl. Maria followed his gaze. "Is she… is it always this bad?"

Clint shook his head. "Nah, not this bad. She mentioned something about someone being… well, less than kind to her. Might be some sort of trauma induced thing."

"Poor kid." Maria sighed, wincing empathetically at Cassie.

Clint kept looking through the glass, keeping his eyes on the girl. He couldn't help but think back to the shelter, back to her spoon feeding Jerome and fixing the heating. He hadn't wanted to make her feel like this. To be fair, he couldn't have guessed that she would react this violently, but it wasn't that far of a leap.

"Time for me to be good cop?" Clint quipped, tearing his gaze away from the hyperventilating girl and glancing at Maria.

"I thought I was supposed to be the good cop?", she responded, tightening her grip on her bleeding wrist.

The archer shrugged. "That was before you judo flipped the kid and sent her into a panic attack."

"Give it a few hours", Nat cut in, turning her attention to her partner, "Let her calm down a bit, then go in."

So Clint waited. Seven hours, he let Cassie linger in her room before he decided it was time to interrogate her. Nat and Maria were stationed outside, ready to intervene should the need arise.

Sauntering in with practiced confidence, Clint took in the sight of the homeless girl for the first time since he snatched her off the street.

She'd managed to pull herself up and now sat at the table in the center of the room. Without all the colors and strange clothes, she looked washed out, like the ghost of a person. The grey material clearly bothered her as she kept picking at it and scratching her shoulders. The track marks were on full display across her neck and peeking out of the sleeves of her shirt. Her eyes kept flicking all over the room like a paranoid schizophrenic.

He felt another pang of guilt at the sight of her. She was clearly terrified, and she wasn't a bad kid. Or, at least, she didn't act like one. As far as he knew, she was just some prodigy with shitty luck, and maybe some shitty decision making skills.

"So", Clint began casually as he sat in his chair and leaned back, "Who are you?"

The girl in front of him shifted in her seat, eyes still moving fast and avoiding him. A pathetic whimper escaped her lips but she kept her mouth shut. She didn't seem the least surprised that it was him sitting in front of her.

"Okay", he shrugged, not bothering to lean forward, "We'll start with what we know."

Clint dropped the thin file onto the table, watching out of the corner of his eye as the girl in front of him flinched at the sound.

"We know you go by Cassie Conway, though there aren't any birth records for you under that name", he began, leaning forward in an attempt to intimidate her, "You're nineteen, you've bounced around in homeless shelters and bum towns for a few years, you've somehow managed to hack some of the most impenetrable security codes within the span of a few days, and prior to two weeks ago, there has been no record of you in any database we can get our hands on."

Clint watched Cassie, trying to see a crack in the armor, but she didn't flinch. It was like she wasn't surprised at all by the information, by the fact that she was an anomaly. The blonde started to shift again, almost like she couldn't stand to sit still for more than a few seconds. She started to wring her hands together, causing her sleeve to slip up her arm, revealing a thick, ugly looking scar.

Clint glanced down at the mark, casually pointing it out. "Looks like that hurt."

Cassie looked up at him, eyes wide and scared. She slapped her palm over the scar, but not before Clint saw there was some sort of dark blue tattoo underneath.

"You know, there are easier ways to get a tattoo removed than slashing yourself up", he quipped, folding his arms over his chest. The kid didn't seem to be reacting at all to what he was saying, instead retreating into her head. Her lips were moving, whispering something without sound and her eyes were unfocused.

Sighing, Clint rubbed at his eyes in frustration. "Kid, we can sit here all day and squawk, but it's not gonna help-"

"Did you know pain r-releases dopamine?"

Clint looked up, surprised to hear the girl talk without screaming. Her voice was strained and gravelly from overuse and she was stuttering like she wasn't happy to speak, but she was halfway looking him in the eyes for the first time. The archer leaned forward, finally getting the girl to talk.

"Yeah", he responded gently, "I've heard something about that."

Cassie took a deep breath through her nose, rubbing at the scar on her arm before continuing. "Dopamine is a che-chemical released during moments of- of pleasure. So that- that means pain makes you h-happy, in some ways. If someone hu-hurts you enough, you start to think pain is- is affection. It's care."

Eyes hardening, Clint looked critically at the blonde, slowly connecting things he hadn't wanted to think about too hard. The track marks, the scars, her inability to look people in the eyes or speak in full sentences. This was way more than domestic abuse.

His fists clenched for a second before he took a silent breath.

"Who hurt you, Cassie?", he asked seriously.

She shifted, her blue eyes unsettling as she tried to look his in the eyes, though her eyes kept flicking around nervously. "They- they hurt people- made us- a-and I didn't want to hurt people. I promise, I don't want to h-hurt a-anyone."

"I believe you", Clint reassured her, holding out his hands to show her he was being truthful. She stared at his hands, as if calculating how much risk she was taking in speaking to him. She looked around the room, as if she was scared of someone listening in on them, of someone punishing her.

"They keep…", she whispered nervously, her shoulders twitching as her eyes searched the room, "They keep us… away. They keep us in-in the shadows. I g-got away but- but I'm the only one."

"The only what?", Clint implored.

Cassie began to shake, her head jerking _no_ painfully fast. Her eyes glazed over and her shoulders jerked as if separated from her body. High pitched whimpers escaped from her lips as she shook and the skin around her eyes started to tinge red from barely held back tears.

"Cassie", the archer soothed quickly, holding his hands up to show the girl he wasn't going to hurt her, "Kid, you've gotta calm down. I can't help you if you're like this."

"C-can't help", she stuttered, still shaking and jerking, "F-find us- find m-me. They'll- they'll…"

Clint's eyes flicked up to the two way mirror, silently pleading for the guards to stay out. He knew that Nat or Maria would send people in soon if Cassie didn't calm down.

"Hey!", he cut in quickly, grabbing hold of the girls shoulders, causing her to shriek and jerk around, "I'm not gonna let them find you. Okay? I can help you. I promise."

Her spasms had gone down marginally as she stared up at Clint, tears sticking to her cheeks. More squeaks and whimpers fell from her lips as she observed him and stilled her body. Her brain must have been working a million miles a minute as she stared up at him.

She continued to stare at him, eyes searching all over her face before she shakily reached down and pulled up her sleeve. Extending her arm out, Cassie revealed the entirety of her tattoo.

Clint gently took her forearm in his hand and looked over the mark. It was a barcode with a the symbols S-13 branded underneath. The ugly Y shaped scar ran through the barcode, as if trying to render it useless.

"P-project Shadow", she whispered, eyes boring into him intensely, "That's w-where they made us."

* * *

"What the fuck is Project Shadow?", Clint demanded, arms folded in front of Nat and Fury. Beside them was a laptop giving a live feed from the interrogation room where Cassie was still locked up. Poor kid was curled up in the corner, twitching and muttering something to herself.

Nat was standing straight in the corner, her eyes distant in that way they always were when she was thinking hard about something. Maria sat in the chair in front of Fury's desk, fingers drumming against her leg as the thought through everything. Fury was at his desk, flipping through files on a tablet like he was looking for something.

Fury's brows were creased together, never a good sign. Nat had her usual stony mask on, but she looked a little more stressed than usual.

"We've heard rumors about it", Fury responded carefully, keeping his voice even, "A few people we've apprehended over the years have mentioned something they call shadow kids, but they don't say much else."

"Don't you think we could have caught a kid?", the archer quipped, "I mean, we got the rest of 'em."

"It might be harder than you think", Fury quipped, barely glancing up from his tablet, "The only evidence we have of their existence is this".

Fury pulled out his tablet, having found what he was looking for, and tapped a few folders before pulling up a security cam video and handing it over to Clint.

In the corner was a boy, couldn't be more than 15, rocking himself in the corner. The kid was clutching his head, his mouth open and screaming when one of the agents who must have been his handler pulled out his gun and shot him through the head, spraying his brains across the wall. Two other agents grabbed hold of the body, pulling it out with them as they made their escape.

The footage made Clint feel sick. He'd seen his fair share of violence, but seeing it happen to kids was where his tolerance ended.

"You had this video", Clint growled, dropping the tablet onto the desk, "And did nothing? That was a kid."

"That was an anomaly", Fury cut in, face hardening, "Best we could deduce was that kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Only reason we kept the video was because one of the agents we apprehended let slip something about there being one of these shadow kids. Wouldn't say much else."

Clint was about to retaliate again, but Nat cut him off.

"Look", she huffed, glancing at both men before continuing, "We can argue about this later, but let's stick to the facts. We've got a girl whose been experimented on with no clear idea of what she can do."

"Are you saying she's a threat?" Clint asked angrily, narrowing his eyes at the redhead beside him.

"Everyone's a threat", she countered, "Some are just more dangerous than others. And this girl is clearly dangerous."

"She's a kid", Clint spat, shoulders squared.

"She's nineteen", Nat retaliated, "And she's unstable."

"Not entirely unstable", Maria cut in, turning to face Natasha.

"She bit you!" Nat replied incredulously.

"She's alone in a strange place locked up with people who kidnapped her off the street", the brunette continued, seeming to be caught between the two partners, "It at the very least explains the whole biting business."

"What she is", Fury cut in, hands pressed firmly against his desk, "Is a problem. She's injured one agent already and seems to refuse to talk to anybody except agent Barton. We need to think through our options."

"What options?", Clint responded, rounding on Fury, "We can't just keep her here against her will."

"Actually, we can", the director responded calmly, "She's clearly dangerous, but she could be useful. We have the jurisdiction to hold her here as long as we deem necessary."

"Oh, come on!" Clint groaned, rounding on Maria, "You can't seriously be backing this."

Hill raised her hands in a surrender gesture. "Hey, I'm just doing my job. I'll do what Fury asks, but I agree that we shouldn't keep her locked up. She's clearly very sensitive to it and it won't help anyone."

Fury took in Hill's opinion before nodding his head. "Hill's correct. The final decision is mine, but I won't make it just yet. First, I'm gonna have a little chat with the girl in question."

* * *

Cassie lay curled up on the stiff bed stuck in the corner. Her tears had dried on her face and she had just managed to clear the spit and snot from her skin. The stiff sheets beneath her were somehow both foreign and familiar. They were bleached stiff, like hers had been before, but the smell was different. They used a different product, most likely.

The ceiling was different, too. There were 68 panels above her, not including the sections of fluorescent lights. Her the other room had 59.

It was the little things that kept her sane. That reminded her that she wasn't back in her old prison.

Her head still ached, but she'd managed so far. She'd continued to hum an old song she'd heard Jerome croaking to himself not too long ago for several hours. The little tune was simple, but it did the job.

Her heart still beat hard in her chest, fear keeping it going. She knew telling Jimmy- or whatever the hell his name really was- about Project Shadow was the smart move. He would never have let it go if she hadn't. But he didn't need to know the full truth, the truth of who ran the project. There was no way of knowing if he was connected to it or not, and she wasn't willing to take the risk.

Her humming was cut off by the sound of the lock breaking through the room once again. Cassie stiffened, her shoulders locking in place as she shot up from her position on the bed.

Cassie had expected the brunette lady to come back, but the man in front of her couldn't look any different. His dark skin and bald head were the first contrast, and the eyepatch piqued her interest. But it was his gaze that caused her to freeze. He looked her directly in the eyes the second he walked in, his dark gaze making her feel as if he already knew everything he needed to know about her.

The blonde girl quickly averted her gaze, the eye contact throwing her off balance.

"So", the man said smoothly, his deep voice assured and dangerous, "You're the girl who managed to hack one of the most impenetrable firewalls in the US."

Cassie kept her gaze firmly on the edge of the man's cheekbone, trying to keep her line of sight steady. She gave him a shrug, keeping her mouth shut.

The one eyed man kept his gaze steady on her, dark eye peering into her. "I heard you have a pretty interesting tattoo."

The blonde girl self consciously tugged at her sleeve, covering her tattoo from the man's line of sight. It didn't belong to him. It wasn't something she wanted anyone to see if she could help it.

The man seemed undeterred by her lack of response, instead continuing as if everything was going according to his plan. Which, as far as she could tell, it was. "I bet you're wondering why you're here."

 _Because you caught onto my dumbass mistake and now I'm stuck talking to some Matrix dressing assholes who were quick enough to catch me._

Cassie kept her thoughts to herself, though. She had enough scars to remind her that opening her mouth was a one way ticket to getting her ass handed to her.

"I bet you're wondering who I am", the man continued, undisturbed by the silence.

Again, Cassie kept her mouth shut. But something in her gaze must have tipped him off to her interest. The man leaned forward slightly, stony face looking deeper at her.

"I'm Nick Fury", he said calmly, "Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., and you, Miss Conway, have caught my attention."

"I'm f-flattered", Cassie spat, unable to hold her tongue at the man's comment. Why did he think she cared? He was still the man who snatched her off the street.

She expected the man to chuckle, much like Jimmy had- damn, she really needed to learn his real name- but he hadn't even flinched at her comment. No movement, no indication that anything she said got to him.

"You should be", Fury responded, "Not many people can grab my attention. You're a very smart young woman."

She couldn't contain herself. Cassie barked out a laugh, the high pitched sound ripping through her throat. No shit, she was smart. She didn't really have a say in the matter. Fury continued to observe her. She could see him making decisions about her, forming his opinions.

"I'd like to know more about you, Miss Conway", Fury said smoothly, like it wasn't really a request.

"What's to- to know?" Cassie shrugged, scratching nervously at her wrist.

"What's to know", began the director, "Is why a nineteen year old girl decided to hack a pharmaceutical company."

Cassie squinted over at Fury, confused. "Aren't you m-more interested in- in how?"

The director shrugged slightly. "You wouldn't tell me anyway, would you?"

Cassie nodded slightly, pursing her lips. The man had a point. She took a breath before responding. "Th-they overcharged people with-with HIV for their meds. And- and they'd been doing it for years. S-so I thought, maybe I could- I should…"

"You thought you should get even", finished Fury, leaning back slightly.

"No", the blonde griped, glaring over at the man in front of her, "I th-thought they needed to- to give it b-back. I sent the money to e-emergency rooms, so the-the people could get bet- better care, or- or whatever. I thought it w-would help."

Fury kept his eyes on her, contemplating. He nodded along as she spoke, thinking over every word she uttered. As they watched each other, Cassie got the feeling that he was connecting dots about her no one else was. His good eye roamed her face as if looking for something in her that he couldn't see yet.

Cassie had no doubt that he could tell something was wrong with her. Something beyond the stutter and the homelessness and all that shit. Fury was taking in everything: the scratching, the track marks, Project Shadow, everything there was he could possibly know about her. He knew something was just below the surface, and something told her that he wanted to figure out how to work that to his advantage.

"What if I told you", the one eyed man said calmly, "That I could offer you a position here at S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"A position?" the blonde huffed, rolling her eyes, "Y-you really think that's all i-it takes? I-I'll do whatever you want be-because you offer me a job?"

"I think that this is your ticket to using that impressive brain of yours for something good", Fury countered, adjusting his weird Matrix jacket, "Of course, it's your choice. We're not going to keep you here if you say no. But you won't be off our radar."

The blonde felt herself think through the options. She knew what S.H.I.E.L.D. was, what they did. It was true, they did better than most at helping people, protecting them. They still did some shady shit, but she could keep a handle on that.

But what if they did what everyone else had? What if they kept her here against her will, made her do things she couldn't bear to do again. This could be another trap.

But she knew that they would never really let her go. Fury had said it himself, they weren't just going to let her disappear again. They had the resources to find her whenever they wanted. If she joined now, she could have some semblance of control.

"If- if I agree", Cassie stated as clearly as she could, trying to keep her stutter suppressed, "I- I have some conditions."

"Okay", Fury responded, intrigued but trying to hide it.

Cassie kept her face passive, trying to keep herself calm as she made her demands. "I want t-to live on my own, no- no surveillance. And I get t-to choose what I work on. You can't make m-me do anything I don't- don't want to do. If- if I ever want to leave, I c-can, no questions asked."

Fury raised his eyebrow. "Those are some heavy demands."

"I know what you are", Cassie responded as firmly as she could, feeling her skin peeling beneath her nails as she continued to scratch as discreetly as possible, "I-I know that S.H.I.E.L.D does things that help people, b-but you do some shitty th-things too. I w-won't do something that will h-hurt innocent people. I- I deserve the freedom to say y-yes or no."

Fury nodded, his expression giving absolutely nothing away. But Cassie knew that he was thinking at least ten steps ahead, and she couldn't fully guess what he was going to do. "Okay", he said, keeping his face stony and hard, "I'll allow it. You help us, with your consent, and hack whoever needs to be hacked. And we give you a life, full freedom. Do we have a deal?"

Fury held his hand out, keeping his gaze locked on her, almost daring her to say no. With only a second of hesitation, Cassie reached out and gripped his hand, shaking it and solidifying their deal. She finally had her freedom, she finally had a life that wasn't under threat at every second.

And Cassie knew exactly what she was going to do with it. With S.H.I.E.L.D's resources, she could find the people who made her and finally take them down. She was going to do whatever it took.

One hand on the wheel. One way to be in control. She could handle that. She had to.

Cassie was not going to let the people who ruined not only her life but the lives of countless people for decades keep getting away with it. She wouldn't let HYDRA destroy anything or anyone else ever again.


	5. 4 Years Later

_4 Years Later_

Tapping away at her laptop, Cassie lazily shoved another handful of potato chips into her mouth as a new song ripped its way through her headphones. The D.C. skyline peeked through her window as crumbs fell down her chin onto her floor, getting stuck in the carpeting to be vacuumed later.

That had been one of her first adjustments to her apartment. Cassie had gotten Clint to help her install carpeting all across the apartment, each room a different color. She wanted everything to be soft and warm, the exact opposite of her old rooms and shelters. This was a home and would feel that way. Second, of course, was debugging the rooms.

Cassie wasn't stupid. She knew Fury wasn't going to let her live on her own bug free. So, a few days into living in her little apartment, she did a quick sweep with her new laptop, pinpointing every camera and recording device in the area and hacking into them. Instead of just shutting them down, she'd hacked them to play a constant loop of old My Little Pony cartoons, just to piss Fury off. Turns out he thought it was a little funny and removed the bugs on the promise that he could have one recording device left in the apartment. Cassie had agreed and let Fury think that she didn't know where it was.

As it turns out, she was a pretty talented liar.

In the four years that she had been working for S.H.I.E.L.D, Cassie had been able to do things she was proud of. Fury had been true to his word and allowed her the option of saying yes or no to any assignment, though he had been rather insistent about some.

Currently, the blonde was looking over the obituary report of Alexander Litvinenko from 1998 when there was a knock at the door. As she started to pull off her headphones and get up to answer, the lock turned and Cassie immediately plopped back down into her chair. Only one person had a key and was polite enough to knock first.

Clint sauntered through the door, casually dropping his jacket on the couch before dropping down onto it himself.

"What's up, young Padawan?", he inquired jovially, laying his head back onto the back of the plush purple couch.

Cassie smiled, setting her laptop to the arm of her chair. "Not m-much Obi-Wan."

"Hey", he retorted, his lifting his face up in a mockingly serious glare, "I'm Yoda. Keep it straight."

The blonde raised her hands in mock surrender, giggling under her breath. "Y-yoda you shall be."

"Shit, kid", Clint chuckled, reaching into the pocket of the jacket beside him, "How do you still sound like a cat stuck in the dryer when you laugh? By the way, Laura sent this for you."

Clint tossed Cassie a brightly colored bundle, which she completely missed and ended up hitting her square in the nose. She caught it as it tumbled down her chest. She lifted it up to see that it was a pair of hand-knitted socks in bright teal and purple stripes. This brought a giddy smile to the blonde's face.

"It's a thank you for setting us up with- well, every movie and TV show in existence." Clint explained, smirking over at the younger woman.

"The- the security was b-bullshit, anyway", Cassie waved off, running her fingers over the soft wool, "And Laura k-kept saying how she n-never has time to watch any-anything."

"Well, thank you from both of us", the agent insisted, dropping his head back onto the couch, "You've saved us thousands in streaming services."

Cassie wrung her fingers together, smiling over at her friend. "Just t-trying to help out. Thought you g-guys might l-like it."

The archer lifted his head once again, this time his smile was a little dimmer. He peered over curiously at the blonde beside him, making her feel a little jittery. "Have you been going to speech therapy?" he asked carefully, as if he were trying to keep her from bolting.

Rolling her eyes, Cassie dropped her smile and reached out for her laptop. "I told you I- I don't- don't need speech therapy."

Clint pressed on, sitting up and leaning forward while using his hands to illustrate his point. "But it's helped with the eye contact thing. You can look a grand total of three people in the eye, and I call that progress! It's got all the benefits of therapy and the added bonus of helping out with the… you know…"

Clint awkwardly pointed vaguely towards her lips, scrunching his eyebrows together in discomfort. The young woman glared over at her friend, her laptop securely in her lap.

"I don't un-understand what's wrong w-with the way I talk", Cassie muttered, tapping away at her keyboard, saving the obituary to a file marked _Winter._

Clint ran his hands over his face, sighing slightly. "There's nothing wrong with the way you speak. It's just- well, it's _why_ you stutter that bothers me. I mean, if you deal with the trauma part of the trauma induced speech impediment, maybe-"

"Deal with the t-trauma", Cassie grumbled in a poor imitation of Clint's deep voice, "Y-you never dealt with your t-trauma, and I- I don't see you in some shrink's o-office twice a week."

"That's because I was raised a lower class man", Clint deadpanned, "Repression is our lifeblood."

Cracking a small smile, the blonde gave in and let the subject go. She turned her gaze back to her laptop briefly, making sure the file was saved. This caught Clint's attention. A boyish grin spread across his face as he reached over and snatched the laptop from Cassie's grasp.

"What'cha got there, little missie?" he drawled. Cassie immediately began to protest, reaching desperately for her computer.

"No, Clint", she pleaded, "I n-need that back, just-"

"Woah", he gushed, eyes widening at the file he was looking at, "This is all in Russian. Didn't know you spoke it."

Cassie irritably snatched the laptop back and snapped it shut, feeling her shoulders hunch in with nerves. "I-I know some. Got curious about- about an old murder. Thought I'd l-look into it."

The archer raised his hands in mock surrender, chuckling under his breath. "Jeez, kid, I wasn't trying to give you the third degree. Just curious, is all. Hey, since you speak Russian, maybe you and Nat could, I dunno, talk about that?"

Cassie felt her shoulders slump. Even the slightest mention of the former Russian assassin made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. She nervously ran her fingers through her hair, mussing it up and sending tendrils over her forehead.

"Y-yeah", she chuckled awkwardly, still scratching at the side of her head, "I don't think there's en-enough Russian in- in the universe to get her to t-talk to me."

"Well, she- uh", Clint backtracked, also nervously scratching at his ear, "She doesn't hate you. She just- uh, she isn't thrilled about your… existence…"

Clint's voice petered out into uncomfortable silence as Cassie gave him an exasperated glare. The agent quickly gave up, placing his head in his hand before snapping it back up.

"None of that is what I came here for", he stated firmly, scooting closer to the blonde girl, "I came here about an assignment."

"M-my company isn't en-enough for you?" Cassie snarked, shoving the laptop between the chair's cushions.

"Oh, my young apprentice", Clint drawled dramatically, standing up from the couch, "You will want this assignment. You are gonna worship me for getting you this assignment. Though praise is unnecessary, it is appreciated. Possibly in the form of gifts or some weird genius program that has every song in existence on it."

"Get to the p-point, Clint" Cassie cut in, rolling her eyes and leaning back.

The archer cocked an eyebrow, smirking once again in a childish manner. "You and I both know you know all about S.H.I.E.L.D. finding a certain hero of yours."

Cassie's muscles froze in place as she felt her eyes widen. Oh shit, he wasn't supposed to know. "I-I… uh, w-well-"

"Drop the act, kid", Clint cut her off gently, giving her a reassuring smirk, "I know you keep tabs on pretty much everything Fury has his hands in. You're too smart not to. Logic follows that you know about our great defrosting project."

The blonde remained still, eyes trained on her friend as she processed what he was saying. "S-so that mean it- it really w-worked? You found-"

"The popsicle of patriotism himself", the archer completed, crossing his arms proudly, "And I landed you a place on his transition team."

"W-what?" Cassie choked, barely understanding what was happening. How could she be on his transition team? She wasn't a psychologist, or a war expert. She didn't understand at all, but that didn't diminish the excitement that was already consuming her.

Clint shrugged, keeping his cool. "Well, you have the _only_ spot on his transition team. Every shrink they've sent his way has come back empty handed. Figured he could use someone who actually knew what it was like to go out into the word blind. And Fury agreed."

Cassie had absolutely no idea what to say. She sat frozen on her chair, feeling every thank you get stuck in her throat, which only seemed to make Clint smile even wider. He chuckled, taking in Cassie's face with a cocky form of pride and an ego that was definitely growing too big.

"Pack your stuff, Cass", he announced dramatically, lifting his arms up like a ringmaster at a circus, "You're headed to New York. Though, you might want to pack some dimmer colored clothes. You don't want to burn the captain's retinas the second you meet him."

* * *

"And this is the control room, where most of our recon is done in real time..."

Steve tried his hardest to listen to the woman next to him as she explained everything around them. The bright lights seemed dimmer than they should be, and all the noise he thought he should be hearing wasn't reaching his ears. It was all just a long blur of things he didn't particularly care about. Agent Hill seemed to be fairly disconnected from what she was talking about, though, as if she didn't feel completely comfortable being there. And Steve couldn't blame her.

Ever since he had been… defrosted, Steve had felt a sort of disconnect from everyone around him. It didn't help that Fury had tried to convince him he was still in the 40's when he woke up. But now, Steve just couldn't bring himself to fully invest himself in anything that was happening around him. His city was different, the people were different, everything that mattered was so foreign to him that he felt like some sort of relic. A piece at a museum that people were afraid to touch.

It had only been a few weeks since he'd woken up. Only a few weeks to process the fact that everyone he knew was dead. Or close to dying.

Hill continued to talk. He could tell that she knew he wasn't really listening, but still she went on, letting him pretend that he was. He appreciated that.

Fury had told him that the technology may be a shock. That everything was so different now in terms of how people lived with it all. But Steve didn't really see it that way. This control room wasn't that much different than the ones he knew back in 1942. They were just flashier, maybe a little more accurate. Other than that, all this didn't impress him too much. It was all just bright lights and people insisting that it was all going to be a big transition for him.

Steve was staring up at the ceiling, lazily taking in every inch of the office and it's brand new tech when he two people laughing behind him. He turned around to see a young girl peering at him over a computer, only the top of her head visible. Beside her was a tall, lithe man with sandy blonde hair. When they saw him looking at her, she let out a high pitched squeak and ducked all the way under the desk, the man shoving her down and immediately leaning against the desk in an attempt to look casual.

Curious, Steve tapped agent Hill on the arm. "Who's that?", he inquired, head jerking towards the desk with the duo.

Maria followed his indication and her eyes immediately narrowed when she saw what desk he was talking about. Steve's gaze followed the man, who was failing to look casual as he leaned back on the desk and avoided the redheads line of sight.

"Clint", she sighed, glaring over at her partner.

"Huh?", Clint responded, scratching nervously at his ear.

Maria kept her gaze steady on the man, and Steve got the sense that she had dealt with this exact situation several times before. Though the slight quirk in her lips gave away the fact that she found the situation at least slightly entertaining.

"Are you hiding Conway under that desk?" she asked, her voice calm.

The man opened his mouth to respond, but seemed to rethink his response at the last second. "You know, what does this 'hiding' thing even mean? What are we hiding _from_ is the real question. And desks, what do they really do? It's all just a construct that keeps us from-"

"Conway", she called out calmly, arms kept firmly behind her back, "Get out from under the desk."

The desk shook and Steve heard a little _ouch_ as the girl crawled out from under the desk and scampered over towards the duo. She nervously looked back at the man- Clint- who was giving her a thumbs up. Steve took in the girl's strange getup, a mixture of dark purple overalls, a white top, and yellow boots with red laces. Even for the future, this look felt out of place.

"H-hi", she stuttered, feet shuffling underneath her and her head ducked, "I'm- I'm Cassie. Um, Cassie C-Conway. I'm on- on the- on S.H.I.E.L.D's t-tech- or, um, r-recon team. I do… tech s-stuff."

"Well", Steve responded, unsure of how to respond the the jumbled mass of words the girl had just given to him, "It's really nice to meet you. Good to meet the team."

The girl giggled, a strange breathy sound. Steve took note of the fact that she still wouldn't meet his gaze. Her head dipped down towards her shoulder, like her head was being turned by some invisible force that wouldn't let her look at him

"I-", she continued, hands now wringing in front of her chest, "I l-like your comics."

Her eyes scrunched together as she sighed, clearly embarrassed that she had just said that. The sight was almost cute, bringing a sad smile to Steve's face. The girl shakily rubbed at her nose nervously, opening her mouth to try again. Unfortunately, she was cut off by the agent behind him.

"Steve", Maria said smoothly, cutting the silence, "We should probably keep moving."

"Yeah, yeah, of course", Steve agreed, sending the blonde beside him a polite smile, "Well, it was nice to meet you, ma'am."

Steve nodded with what he hoped was a convincing smile and continued on beside Hill. The girl waved jerkily at him, as if she was a marionnette with its strings cut. He glanced back for a second to see her crumble a little, looking deeply embarrassed. She slammed her palm into her face, the sound of it actually painful.

Steve felt bad. He hadn't meant to make the girl feel ashamed, but he simply couldn't handle any more small talk about what a hero he was. The comic books in particular were something he didn't want to discuss. He had no desire to talk about any of it in the near future.

"Sorry about her", the agent stated, glancing over at him with a small smile, "Cassie can be a little much for most people. I've suggested giving her a warning label. 'Beware: She bites'."

"No", Steve conceded, shaking his head slightly, "No she wasn't- uh, she was fine. It's me. I just- did you just say she bites?"

"Only when startled", she insisted, casually sweeping a stray hair from her eyes, "Anyway, you don't have to come up with any excuses, okay?"

Steve felt his eyebrows raise at the woman's statement. "What do you mean?"

"You think I can't see you zoning out?", Hill inquired, her face twisting into an uncomfortably serious expression, "Look, I'm not gonna say I get it. Almost no one can. Just… it'll get easier. Eventually."

Steve felt his hopes fall slightly. He didn't know what he had been hoping for, but it hadn't been that. Despite his disappointment, Steve kept a smile planted firmly on his face as he nodded along with Maria's well intentioned talk.

"Yeah", he offered politely, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "Yeah, it's- I've just gotta get through all… this."

"Well", Maria responded, checking her watch, "All this might take a while. That's why we got someone for you. Someone good this time, I promise."

Steve nodded his head, feeling himself slip away from the conversation. The bright lights of the room were becoming dim again, and he knew he just wanted to go back to his little apartment and lay down. Feel the silence was over him, let it all fall on him and crush him again.

He could feel Hill looking at him, but didn't feel like checking to see how she was looking at him. "It's getting late. How about you had back to your apartment?"

Steve felt himself nod again, this time with a little more conviction. He reached up and rubbed at his eyes, feeling tired and heavy all over. He listened to the soft boot falls of Hill walking towards the door, allowing him to have some space for the first time that day. Suddenly, something from earlier in the conversation scratched at the back of his mind.

"Wait", he called out, stopping her in her tracks. The agent turned around, quirking an eyebrow at him with a curious expression on her face. "You said almost no one. Almost no one would understand. Who's 'almost'?"

Hill's curious look turned into a little smirk, her eyes looking mischievous as she jutted her chin out in what looked a bit like pride. "Just hang tight until you meet up with your transition team."

Steve couldn't hold back the eye roll. Not the transition team again. "Can't wait till I have to answer another question about how I feel about being frozen."

"Well, we found you a new team", she chuckled, swiping a fallen tendril of hair behind her ear, "Just don't get too freaked out when you meet 'em."

"Why would I be freaked out?", Steve inquired, his interest growing.

Hill smirked once again, swerving back around and answering him over her shoulder as she walked away. "You'll know it when you see it."

As Maria's footsteps faded down the hall, all Steve was left with was the crushing silence and the vague interest in who the next person to treat him like a lab rat would be.


End file.
